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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636090">selfish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_bated_breath/pseuds/my_bated_breath'>my_bated_breath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, F/M, Gen, Post-Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, Zutara Week 2020, day 6: affirm, oh look here comes another story set immediately after the events of The Southern Raiders..., reminiscent of Revenge is Sour by George Orwell, revenge is a fantasy where the powerful are punished by the powerless, there will be hurt and there will be comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:55:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636090</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_bated_breath/pseuds/my_bated_breath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is a fantasy.</p><p>Written for Zutara Week 2020, Day 6: Affirm</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>selfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Why does it still hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice was a whisper. Tucked away in the farthest corner of Appa’s saddle, Katara held her knees to her chest, leaning back to where the woven ridges guard her like a wall. During the time they spent searching for Yon Rha, she had appeared invincible — back ramrod straight, chin tilted upwards in defiance. She towered above the world. But now she was so small, folded into herself, knees held to her chest, pushed against the saddle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why does it still hurt?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s grip on Appa’s reins tightened before he forced his fingers to relax. He was the wrong person to ask this — stealth and tracking he could do, but emotional advice was far beyond his grasp. His own past was too twisted for him to untangle that of another person’s, and even if he was simple, even if he did know all the right answers, he was terrible at talking anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if Aang would know what to say. The boy was so innocent and hopeful, and his advice, while naive, would probably be more uplifting than what Zuko had to offer. Even if Aang’s words tested the little patience he had left, even if his acceptance felt irritatingly hollow, even if he painted closure as revenge, even if he didn’t want to do anything at all-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Aang wasn’t here. He wouldn’t ever be here, he would never have the chance to confront the Fire Nation soldiers that stole his people and culture away from him. And maybe because of that — maybe because he was never there to see his childhood ripped into two, in what came Before and what came After — he could never understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aang was right. Aang was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what did he know?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That anger festered from a wound that was left open for too long, and he saw how she clung onto it with feverish desperation. The haunted look in her eyes when they escaped on Appa from the Western Air Temples was one of a child torn away from their family yet again. The agony wrought in her features when she shouted at him had etched itself deep into the skin she wore behind her smile, a scar on her soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgive him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s like Katara said — it's not just hard, it's impossible. To forgive the person that took your mother, that transformed your childhood into a nightmare, that forced you to lock all that hurt far away where it was no longer a weakness, and so you had to be strong enough for him, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t forgive him. Is that why it hurts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before even knowing what he was going to say, Zuko clambered over the saddle and dropped down by Katara’s side. Her hands were cupped around her cheeks as she dejectedly stared at the space between her feet. He could see the redness of her fingers —  she was shivering too, whether from the cold or from something else, he could only guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought came to him as naturally as instinct. Zuko wanted to take hold of her hands so he could warm them between his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jerked his head back, forcing away the irrational desire to touch her. But the need to stop her shivering was too strong to ignore, so Zuko pulled out a cloak from one of their packs and handed it to her. With her arms still stuck to her sides, Katara’s fingers curled onto the fabric. It hung uselessly from her hands, flapping furiously in the wind, and she didn’t even flinch when the cloth whipped into her knees and side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Say something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he urged himself.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Save her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have to forgive him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That elicited a reaction from her. She raised her gaze to meet his and he was struck by just how tired she appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he wished it was true. “Because it’s your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My choice,” she murmured to herself. “I don’t even know what my choices are. I don’t even know what I want!” She swung down her arm in frustration, but she didn’t let go of the cloak. “If I can’t forgive him, then why can’t I bring myself to kill him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko had lingered behind after Katara spared Yon Rha, evaluating this shaking old man, skinny and wrinkled, fruits and vegetables scattered haphazardly around him. Disgust and rage coiled inside him, fueled by a protective urge he had no right to claim. But this man was not someone he had to protect Katara from. Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re too old for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since they left, something flickered back to life in her eyes. “What? What does that have to do with anything?” she demanded. “And I’m younger than you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, they were suddenly having a very different conversation. Zuko groaned. “No, no! I didn’t mean to say you were elderly or — that’s not what I meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Then what did you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant to say you grew up. You’re not helpless anymore.” Upon seeing the indignation on her face, he quickly backed up. “Not that you were helpless before! It’s just — you were a child. Children don’t have much power, but Yon Rha…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “But he did. And he killed her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words sunk in. He remembered Yon Rha’s terrified confession that the Southern Raiders were looking for the last waterbender. He remembered Katara’s admission that Kya told her to run, keeping Katara’s bending a secret at the cost of her mother’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes shadows grow so dark in our memories that we forget their true shade in reality,” Zuko absentmindedly quoted to himself, a stray memory of one of Uncle’s many proverbs. Katara shot him a questioning look. So he answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you could have killed the Yon Rha that killed your mother. Maybe not. But when you met him…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>There's just nothing inside you, nothing at all. You're pathetic and sad and empty.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence descended around them. Then, she spoke. “When I said I wondered what kind of man could do such a thing, I wasn’t lying. Only when I’d close my eyes and try to imagine him walking towards our tent or boarding back onto the ship, all I could see was the moment I found him in my home.” She paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else was there to him? Was he just another loyal servant to the Fire Lord? Did he have a family or children he glamorized his military conquests to? How many other innocents had he killed for the sake of a mission?  I didn’t know anything about him. Nothing, except for what I can remember — that he wore metal armor, that his eyes looked like sunken crescents, that he was taller than me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Yon Rha begged Katara for mercy, he was on his knees. Cowering on the ground, below them, the crinkle in his eye pooling with rain and tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how I imagined him for years. Maybe that’s why it was so surprising to find out he’s just human.” Katara angled her head down. “He’s just human — like me. Like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko leaned back, inviting the night to consume his vision. Wispy grey clouds still hung here and there, but they were small, as isolated as the incense from a single stick. Would everything be easier if he was just a symbol to be struck down? But he was not just the face behind the crime; no, he — Yon Rha, Ozai — was the present vessel for the legacy of a one-hundred-year war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said simply. “He is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up,” Katara echoed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he grew older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it’s over. It’s been over for seven years. It was over before it even began because of course it was, I should’ve known that. I should’ve known!” She choked on her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko jolted. Whether it was from incredulity or indignation, he did not know. “Don’t say that, Katara,” he said fiercely. “You suffered. No one expects you to just move on from that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes blazed. “No. Everyone expected me to be the forgiving one,” she said bitterly. Then, unexpectedly, her voice softened. “Everyone except for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted nervously. “You hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did hate you.” Katara corrected. Then she hesitated. “But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you trying to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Just… I already made so many mistakes around you. Like trusting you in Ba Sing Se. Like yelling at you when you saved us. So what’s a few more? So what if I wanted vengeance? So what if I used bl-” she cut herself off, and they were both overcome by the image of a body reduced to a marionette, limbs twisting to invisible strings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, you have no right to judge me.” He didn’t. “And I don’t owe you anything.” She didn’t. “So if I want to be selfish around you, I will be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words were forceful and full of conviction, but Zuko could hear the wavering edge of her voice, could pick out the places where she paused in her speech. And he remembered her mending the stitches in Toph’s shirt and telling her to be more careful, he remembered her placing a hand on Sokka’s shoulder when he frowned at his sword that lacked its complimentary fan, he remembered her smiling brightly at any progress Aang made in his bending practices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said. “You can hate me. You can be selfish with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, Katara’s eyes widened and her mouth parted, almost as if she was about to protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she clamped her jaw. Nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another cold burst of wind rushed by them, and Zuko noted that the color of Katara’s hands and fingers was even redder now. Unthinkingly, he pried the cloak from her fingers and unfolded it. The texture of the fabric was familiar, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that was because this was his cloak. Now he was shivering alongside her, his hands becoming clumsy as he unclasped the cloak and wrapped it around her, careful not to touch her too much while doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers lingered on the clasp, and then they were warming even though he wasn’t firebending because Katara was holding onto them now. There was something in her gaze. Even in the dark, he could read it perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it be selfish,” she started, “to want someone to hold me right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bluntness of her confession nearly had Zuko pulling his hands away out of shock, but she seemed so brittle in that moment, still trembling, skin still red and cold. Sensing his reluctance, Katara’s fingers loosened around his, giving him a choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko slid his hands out of her hold and nearly missed the disappointment and resignation flashing across her face. He hesitated, and then he wrapped his arms around her, woven around her back. She was so small and still in his embrace, and he was awkward and stiff and all too new to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she was unfreezing, and her arms were winding around his body too. His muscles untensed, and he found himself bringing her head to the crook of his neck while he rested his cheek in her hair. Her breath was evening, and he swore he could hear her heartbeat steadying through the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were alone in a sea of dark, a sea of stars, and dawn would soon break. But until then, they could hold each other. Until then, they could be selfish together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*notes are edited from original post, mostly because I would like my fanfiction persona to exemplify a bit more dignity and less cringiness</p><p>This fanfiction was yet another excerpt taken from another incomplete oneshot I have no intention of finishing -- but this part of the story spoke to me despite how much the rest of it refused to work with me. In writing Zuko and Katara's struggle with revenge, I was inspired by a video essay posted on Youtube about the Southern Raiders titled "The Cycle of War." Essentially, the cycle is comprised of three steps that can be summarized as such:  (1) a perpetrator of war creates a victim out of an innocent, (2) the victims' pain transforms into a desire for revenge, (3) the victim of war becomes a perpetrator of war by seeking revenge on another innocent, thus completing and exacerbating the cycle.</p><p>A few weeks later, I read Revenge is Sour by George Orwell and found it expressed everything I wanted to communicate through my writing here. And as much as I love dark!Katara takes when they're well-executed, I think that Orwell's essay is worth significant consideration in writing any character who is driven to violence.</p><p>And now that all the heavy stuff is out of the way, I wanted to share some fun bits of trivia: I started writing this fanfiction with the intention of submitting for Day 4: Celestial (the irony...) but then the post-Southern Raiders conversation ran away from me and became a look into the parallels of Katara and Zuko's relationship via revenge. So. It wasn't very star/sun/moon and sadly, there is no Celestial submission from me to speak of.</p><p>As always, if you're interested in reading the full incomplete story (which is quite the oxymoron) feel free to chat with me on my Tumblr @my-bated-breath. And if you're just desperate to discuss ATLA with someone else who's relatively new and still fresh with (perhaps cringeworthy?) headcanons and analyses of the show, my inbox is open to all messages.</p><p>And one more thing -- are you interested in a Zutara 94 year war canon divergence AU that borrows elements of Miraculous Ladybug's Love Square? And perhaps even if you don't know what Miraculous Ladybug is, a love square is fairly simple: take zutara/painted blue/blutara/paintedko and smash them all into one story. That's it, that's the whole selling point of this fanfiction -- but it does take quite a few political twists and turns here, and is focused on an Ambassador-Vigilante relationship that I hope to write in a very compelling manner. Anyway, this story is titled "Unveil Me" and it's already posted, check it out if you're interested.</p><p>Of course, I can't end my notes without thanking each and every one of you for reading to the end, especially if you're actually bothering to read these end notes (which sadly, no one ever seems to do). I'm a self-proclaimed narcissist so I loved being showered in kudos, and if you leave a comment I'm likely to respond, so feel free to ramble or ask me anything!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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